His Chunk of Kryptonite
by VictorianChik
Summary: Slash - When Clark Kent discovers that his millionaire boyfriend has been hiding a big secret from him, it is a long, tense night at Wayne Manor. Warning for slash and M/M spanking of an adult though no graphic sex.
1. Wrong

AN: These chapters will be super short, but I had an idea about a story I wanted to write after reading _Superman/Batman Volume 1._ This is very different from what I normally write, but I wanted to play around with something new.

Warning: This is slash with discipline. There is no graphic sex, but it is two men in a relationship with spanking. If you feel uneasy about this, please leave and find something more suiting for your taste.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

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The wind was whispering around the eaves of Wayne Manor as Superman flew down towards it. The stone mansion looked impressive and stately at it rose up in the dark night, but he knew that that the aristocratic exterior belied the warm rooms inside, especially the rooms in which the house's owner spent most of his time.

Bruce was already home – Superman knew by the lights on the second floor to the right. Bruce had just gotten home from work, probably, and would be changing out of the clothes he wore to the office and into the boxers, wife-beater, and socks that he wore under the Batsuit. Bruce, of course, would be planning to go out for a long night of patrol with Superman, but Clark had other plans.

He wanted to spend time with Bruce – he always did – but if the man looked too worn or tired, Clark would insist that he stay home and get some rest while Superman patrolled Gotham for the night. Bruce would put up a fight – _he_ always did – but that really did not matter. Bruce might be Batman with all his gadgets and tools and training, but his boyfriend was Kryptonian with enough strength to crush granite and bend iron and even get one tired human superhero into bed despite all his objections.

For his part, Clark was never sure how their relationship started. They had always been close friends, best friends as far as he knew, but they got closer after Dick Grayson left and Jason had died. After spending an evening at Wayne Manor with a very depressed, sullen Bruce, Clark had insisted that he stay the night, sleeping in a guest room next to Bruce's. The next morning over coffee and toast, Bruce had impulsively pulled near him at the table, and a moment later they were kissing. They had not said anything, but it was understood that they had moved past friendship into something much more intimate and emotional.

Every since then, they had been together though they really only spend time together on the weekends because Clark felt he had to stay loyal to his job and mission in Metropolis and Bruce would never leave Gotham. The arrival of Tim Drake had complicated things, but Alfred had made mattesr easier by insisting that he take young Master Drake to visit Master Grayson in Bludhaven on Friday and stay there until late Saturday or early Sunday. Bruce had been hesitant about the plan, but at fourteen, Tim was eager to visit his cool "older brother" and hang out with Nightwing for a while. When asked if Tim could stay, Dick had agreed though Clark thought it was more because Dick liked showing off his apartment and weapons to Tim rather than trying to be accommodating to his adopted father. Tension was still tight between Dick and Bruce, but Dick and Tim never seemed to squabble too much except when Dick visited Wayne Manor and Tim wanted to do everything cool that Dick got to do and Bruce said no.

This being Friday night, Clark would get to have Bruce all to himself. Bruce had seemed very nervous when they spoke on the phone, too many "yeahs" and "mmm-hmms" for Clark's taste. His boyfriend was known for his quiet (brooding) manner, but he seemed especially reserved lately.

Landing on the second-story balcony of Wayne Manor, Superman took all of 1.24 second to switch back into his casual clothes and opened the French doors to Bruce's room. "I'm here," he announced.

Bruce was pulling the small closet door shut and he hastily turned around, pressing his back to the door. "Hey," he stammered, his face flushed. "You're early. It's not even seven. You said you would be here at seven. It's six-thirty-two – the clock says so, right there."

"I got off early," Clark nodded slowly, watching Bruce's face carefully. Bruce kept all his clothes in the large, walk-in closet on the other side of the room. The small closet did not hold much of anything, maybe a few towels and an extra coat or two if Clark remembered right.

Usually strong and stoic, Bruce looked agitated though he was trying very hard to mask his feelings. "Well, you're here. Cool, cool – are you hungry?"

Clark's razor sharp eyes caught a single bead of sweat running down the left side of Bruce's face, tracing down the strong jaw bone that Clark's fingers had traced before.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked.

"Nothing," Bruce's voice took on a desperate note as he kept standing in front of the closet door. "Let's go downstairs. We can eat food there. You said you were hungry."

"What's in the closet?" Clark asked. He could have easily turned on the x-ray vision and scanned through Bruce and the door, but he preferred to be told. That was one of the major things they had worked on over the last year: being honest. And by "working on", that meant Bruce had learned to be more honest as Clark was not happy about all secrets that his boyfriend kept.

Even the little, stupid things annoyed Clark to no end. Bruce would hide his worries about his business or the boys or a particularly nasty villain that he was having trouble fighting. Once he hid two broken ribs from Clark, insisting that he was fine and felt no pain; after that, Clark made him strip down to his boxers every Friday so he could inspect the damage and then fetch ice packs or heating pads or rubbing alcohol to tend Bruce's wounds though Bruce always insisted he was perfectly fine and did not need a nurse.

"Are you hurt?" Clark stepped closer, his brow drawing together in concern. "If it was Bane again – I told you once, Bruce, and I'm not telling you again. You stay away from that monster and you call me to come deal with him."

"It's wasn't Bane, and I'm not hurt. I'm just – let's go, okay?"

"Open the closet," Clark said in a calm voice that masked the frustration he was feeling.

"No, come on, man – let's go," two more beads of sweat ran down Bruce's face.

"You can open the closet or I can – simple as that," Clark announced, resisting the urge to cross his arms. He only crossed his arms when Bruce was in big, big trouble, and he had the feeling that soon enough he would need to cross those arms.

"Please," Bruce nearly whined. "Don't make me."

Clark reached out for the knob, and for a moment, he thought Bruce might actually try to push his arm away. But though he looked miserable and nervous and sweaty, Bruce only gave a low groan and stepped back just enough to let Clark open the door.

Clark could not imagine what Bruce had hidden in there – it could be anything from new dangerous tools to an animal (Bruce kept talking about some exotic snake he had seen that glowed in the dark, and Clark had said no, absolutely no snakes). However, nothing could have prepared Clark for what he actually did see.

On the floor of the small closet, in a tight black dress that clung to her curvy body, with her hair as tussled around her seductive face, Selina Kyle stared up at Clark with large, guilty eyes.


	2. Bad

_Fifteen minutes earlier_

Bruce felt relieved to be leaving Gotham's busy downtown and heading towards his quiet manor. Unlike the last weekend, most of the major villains were tucked away in Arkham. No one had heard from Riddler in few weeks, but Edward had lain low for the most part after being released from Arkham four months ago. Batman had tracked him all the way to a dirty apartment, but Riddler seemed to be just hanging out and making money through online computer stuff and not causing any real trouble.

Batman felt sure that Riddler was doing something illegal like hacking or internet scams, but as long as Riddler stayed off the streets, Batman did not feel overly compelled to confront him and demand to know what was going; Riddler would be all up in arms about his right to privacy and most likely would retaliate by setting up some complex trap to make Batman figure out a riddle. That was all good and fine on a day with not much to do, but now Bruce wanted to get home because Clark would be coming soon.

He pulled his car in the garage beside his other nice cars, killed the engine, and started for the house.

For all his thinking and analyzing, Bruce could not begin to comprehend his relationship with Clark. From that first kiss, it all felt right, but Bruce constantly found that he had to change everything about himself just to suit Clark. Normally, Bruce went for days with little talk; Clark insisted that he open up more and made a point of calling on the phone everyday to engage Bruce in conversation.

Clark wanted him to talk more to the kids as well. Tim had been shocked when Bruce came into his room one night and started asking how he was doing in school, did he have any new friends, did he miss his dad, and was he feeling too much pressure. When Bruce had called Dick just to talk, Dick had freaked out and demanded to know if Bruce was sick or dying or if something had happened to Tim because, in Dick's words, "You never call me until something awful happens, you miserable cold bastard."

That had started an argument on the phone that Clark had to step in and stop before Bruce could do as he threatened and go to Bludhaven to "straighten out your sorry ass, you ungrateful, long-haired punk."

Clark also wanted him spend more time resting and recovering from fights. Bruce understood that he was human and Clark was not so Clark could not possibly know what a human body felt like, but dang it all, Bruce wasn't some delicate flower. He could go without food and sleep for days; he could run miles without getting winded; he could pump over 500 pounds of iron. He was all about pushing his limits and training his body, and he did not like that fact that Clark was so much stronger without even trying and could effortlessly toss him over his shoulder if he wanted while Bruce pushed against that iron shoulder and back in vain.

Clark also had limits about the time they spent on patrol. Bruce saw nothing wrong with going out as soon as it got dark and staying out until the dawn light began to glow in the far eastern sky. Clark insisted that they only go out for five hours at a time and he was big about Bruce taking water and food with him and making sure Bruce got sleep later.

And the very worst thing about their relationship was that fact that Bruce did not really have a choice. Because Clark was so strong, he got to have things his way, and he did not hesitate to put his foot down when he felt that Bruce was out of line. So maddeningly frustrating and unreasonable and just annoying in Bruce's point of view. In their bedroom life, they never used words like _top_ or _bottom_ though Clark was scared to death that he would hurt Bruce and usually went along with whatever Bruce wanted to do in bed. But in the rest of their relationship, Clark made it crystal clear that he was the one in charge because, as he charmingly put it, "If I let you do things your way, Bruce, we'd never talk, spend no quality time together, and I'd always be patching you up from unnecessary fights."

So Clark got to be in charge, even in Bruce's own home. Bruce had hoped Alfred would resent Clark trying to take over, but the trusty butler seemed glad and commented that he was having to buy fewer medical supplies because Batman did not get as injured as much as he used to.

"Worthless old man," Bruce growled as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

Clark did not like the Batman growl, either. When Bruce got upset, he tended to resort to that growl as it usually made people shape up and do what he wanted, but Clark would look right at him and say that he did not like being growling at and that Bruce would have to talk normally if he wanted to keep talking to his boyfriend. As turning his back on Clark was not an option, Bruce had to force himself to talk in a normal voice which he felt was unfair because he often slipped into the growl without even realizing it.

Planning to change into more comfortable clothes before heading down to the Cave, Bruce opened his bedroom and stopped short. He was not alone.

Leaning against the end of his king-sized bed, Selina Kyle stood in a beautiful black dress and stared at him with velvety eyes.

"Selina?" Bruce managed to say, completely stunned.

"Hello, Batman," she smiled, her red lips twitching up in a warm smile.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I'm Catwoman," she answered. "No locked door stops me."

"What do you want?" Bruce watched her carefully, wondering what was going on. Selina had known about his secret identity for several years now as he knew about hers, but with her showing up unexpected, Bruce was half-suspecting that someone else would jump out to knock him unconscious or shoot him with sleeping darts.

"I just wanted to see you – where's the crime in that?" Selina stepped towards him. "I miss you, and I wanted to see you again, touch you once more."

"I'm with Clark now," Bruce protested. "You know that."

"Ugh, that blue and red boy scout?" Selina sneered. "Always smiling, always happy, always wanting to make things better. How can you stand being around him?"

"Clark and I are together and that's it."

"Well, before Mr. Proud America came to town, you belonged to me," Selina snapped.

"I never belonged to you," Bruce shook his head. "Yes, we dated and we did other things –"

"So modest," Selina scoffed. "Don't get all prudish on me. We once spend an entire day naked in the Cave together – we had sex in the Batmobile twenty-nine times!"

"Hey, I was going to ask you to marry me," Bruce pointed out, his voice deepening. "But you wouldn't stop being Catwoman, and I knew if I married you, I would spend the rest of my life returning everything you stole. So I'm with Clark now, and we do fine together because neither of us are egocentric kleptomaniacs."

"Ooh, listen to you and the big words," Selina taunted. "You must turn farm boy's head right around with your fancy city talk."

"Clark's a reporter at a very prestigious newspaper," Bruce suddenly felt defensive. He was not sure how Selina found out about Clark being Superman, but he did not like her trash-talking him. "And he went to college and he reads more than anyone else I know."

"Whoa, defensive much?" Selina put her hands up. She came a bit closer. "Don't fight with me, Bruce, please. Be nice."

Bruce swallowed hard. The closer she got, the more he could smell her perfume and see the different shades of green in her eyes. She was devastatingly beautiful in a very dark way.

He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. His big hands fit around his slim waist just right, and she would move up against his body and raise herself up on tiptoes to place her lips against his. He had to control himself.

"Selina, don't," he meant the words to be strong and commanding, but they came out too breathy and anguished as he fought against his attraction for her.

Her eyes lit up with eagerness as she stepped closer. "Just one more time, Bruce. Clark will never have to know."

"Yes, he will. He's going to be here by seven. He'll know and it's not fair to him. I'm not cheating on Clark, not even with you – he deserves better than that."

"Yes, Clark is good," Selina agreed. "So very good. But you and me, we're bad. We're bad, so bad. Don't you want to be with a bad girl again, Bruce?"

He groaned, but she had reached him and she flung her arms around him. She was kissing him a second later with warm, wet lips. He knew he should push her away – he loved Clark and Clark loved him, but Selina was so different. She was bad – a vicious, awful sort of bad, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to be bad with her.

"So bad," Selina said into his mouth. "So wicked, you and me."

He groaned again and reached down to grope her waist and rear before digging his hands in her dark hair. She had her hands all over his broad shoulders, pressing her sharp nails into his skin. So very bad together.

And then Bruce heard Clark land on the balcony just outside his bedroom.

"He's here!" Bruce thrust Selina away as he looked around in desperation. Grabbing her in one iron hand, he dragged her to the small closet, opened the door, and pushed her inside.

"Hey!" she protested as she fell to floor, but he closed the closet door and ordered,

"Shut up, woman!"

And then Bruce turned just in time to see Clark coming in the balcony door, a pleasant smile on his boyfriend's face.


	3. Guilt

"It's not what it seems!" Bruce protested in a loud voice. "I swear it's not."

Clark glanced at him and then looked down again at Selina in the closet. "Miss Kyle?" he offered her hand, ever the polite gentleman.

"Call me Selina," she insisted as she took his hand and stood up.

"I didn't even know she was here," Bruce kept babbling. "I came up and she was here, and I told her to go away. I did, Clark, I told her several times to leave, but she wouldn't."

"Oh, cool it," Selina looked at Bruce in disgust. "I came by to see if the old Bats fancied a quick one in the Batmobile again, like old times, and he got all offended."

"That's right, she came on to me," Bruce said in the same loud voice.

"So we just made out. Batsy here was ready to round second base when you came back and then he tossed me in the closet like a pair of old shoes. No one treats Catwoman like that."

Clark said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"We were just kissing – it wouldn't have gone further than that, I swear," Bruce sounded desperate.

"Yes, it would have," Selina frowned. "I used to get you to sleep with me anytime I wanted. You may be with Mr. Red, White, and Blue now, but two years ago your ass belonged to me."

"I never belonged to you, you decrepit old hag," Bruce shot back.

With a hiss, Selina sprang towards him, her hands like claws to scratch his face. Clark stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist before she could reach Bruce.

"That's enough," Clark decided as he set Selina aside and fixed Bruce with a stern look. "We're not resorting here to violence or name calling. We will act civilized and we will treat ladies with respect."

"What?" Bruce looked bewildered.

"Regardless of what you did or she did, you still are going to act like a gentleman," Clark told him. "So basically what happened was that you came home, she was here, you started kissing, and then you tried to hide her in the closet when I got here?"

Bruce suddenly flushed red and he looked away.

Selina stared, mesmerized at his reaction. She had seen him in all sorts of moods and tempers over the last years, but she had never, ever seen Bruce look so incredibly guilty and shameful as he did under Clark's stern gaze. She knew she should feel angry that Clark could cause such a reaction in Bruce, but the expression on her ex-lover's face completely overrode everything she was feeling.

Bruce looked like a naughty child caught in mischief who knew he was about to get in big trouble, and Selina held her breath, wondering what would happen next.

"Were you planning on cheating on me?" Clark asked, his face and voice still perfectly even.

"No," Bruce stammered. "Not like that. It's just . . . Selina – we have a history together, but we could never work out."

"We could," Selina spoke up. "You like being bad with me, you just said so. Face it, Bruce, you belong with your kind, the dark souls of Gotham, not this do-gooder alien from Metropolis."

"I wasn't doing anything!" Bruce said. "I swear, we were just kissing, and then I was going to make her go away."

"Without doing anything else?" Clark asked.

"Yes."

"Without cheating on me?"

"Yes!"

"Without telling me what you had done?"

"Yes! No, I mean, no. Of course, I would tell you. I really would." Bruce looked even more guilty, seriously sweating now.

Clark's eyes narrowed. It wasn't the first time he had caught Bruce in a lie, but each time he got through with his boyfriend, Bruce swore it would be the last. It wasn't so much Selina either. Clark expected her to be back to bother them just as he expected Lex Luthor to scheme up diabolical plans and Bruce to refuse to take care of himself. But for Bruce to try to hide it, to willfully cover up what he had done –

Clark slowly crossed his arms and looked right at his boyfriend.

Bruce paled and swallowed hard again as he took in Clark's stance, especially those thick arms folded against Clark's solid chest. "I swear to you –"

"I've heard enough out of you for tonight," Clark interrupted. "I'm not letting this get anymore out of hand than it already is. We're going to deal with this now and then –"

Clark hesitated suddenly. He turned his head to side as if listening to something. "Trouble downtown," he reported. "I'm going to sort it out. When I get back, she better be gone. Then you and I are going to have a little talk." Clark looked straight at Bruce.

A second later, Clark had disappeared, leaving Bruce and Selina alone in the bedroom.

Selina smiled coyly, about to suggest that they pick up where they had left off, but Bruce ran his fingers back through his hair in distress.

"Oh, no," he shook his head. "No, no, no – why the hell did you have to come here tonight?"

"Me?" Selina prissed her lips together.

"Yes, I was all ready to spend a nice weekend with him, and then you showed up. Did you see his face?"

"Yeah, not much there," Selina sniffed. "I mean he caught us in your bedroom together. You would think he might have shown a bigger reaction like throwing things around or yelling at you or threaten to beat you up. Instead, he was all cold and stern and you were – Bruce? You look like you're about to throw up."

"He caught me trying to hide you in my closet!" Bruce yelled at her. "Then I tried to get out of it, and then I lied. Oh, no, he's going to –"

Bruce turned and ran for the door, but Selina used her fast cat reflexes to beat him there. She stood in front of the hallway door and demanded,

"What's he going to do? Where are you going?"

"Get out of my way," Bruce ordered. "I swear, I'll throw you down the stairs if you don't get out of my way and leave my house forever."

"You let me come with you or I'll stalk your house for the next three weeks," she shot back.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to throw her into the far wall, but he growled, "Fine, whatever, just get out of my way."

Selina jumped back and then ran along with Bruce down the hallway to the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"To the Cave," Bruce thundered down the stairs with Selina right behind and dashed into the room to the right. Scrambling down to the piano, he slammed his fingers on several notes and the grandfather clock turned abruptly, opening a passageway.

Selina had seen it before, but she had never seen Bruce so frantic and worried when he was out of costume and no one's life was at stake.

Bruce stepped into the old-fashioned lift and she jumped right beside him just in time as the whole thing began to lower.

"Tell me what's going on," she urged, fascinated by the look of terror on his face.

Bruce pushed the lever of the lift down harder. "It's in the Cave, a chunk of Kryptonite. I have it somewhere on the second floor. Come on, come on, move!"

"Isn't Kryptonite bad for Superman?" Selina wrinkled her brow as she tried to remember. "Doesn't it make him sick?"

"Yeah, but I don't want it for that," Bruce leapt out of the lift before it stopped completely. "I just want to have it to make him calm down and listen to me long enough before he can do anything drastic. If I can get him to listen, it'll be okay."

Bruce ran towards a cabinet and nearly tore off the two doors as he pulled them open to search inside.

"How did you get Kryptonite anyway?"

"He gave it to me years ago, in case he ever went crazy and I needed to stop him," Bruce began throwing things out of the shelves. "It'll slow him down enough to hear me out before – damn, where is it?"

"Not too organized, are you?" Selina smirked.

Bruce turned to her, furious. "_I_ am organized! But that rat orphan I live with probably took it somewhere to play with and didn't put it back. Wait 'til I get my hands on him. That's going to be one sorry Tim Drake when I'm done."

Selina blinked at Bruce's mean description of the boy, but Bruce snarled,

"Don't stand there. Help me look. It's a small lead box that closes tight with a bright green rock inside."

"Fine," Selina began looked around herself. "I don't understand why you're so worried about stopping him. He seemed perfectly calm upstairs. I thought he would be ready to tear the house down, but he just stood there and asked questions. So much for the jealous boyfriend."

"You don't know him like I do. Once the arms cross, it's all over for me. Search faster, woman!"

"I am looking in a dark cave as big as your house," she protested. "It could be anywhere. Maybe Tim took it with him."

Bruce growled again as he moved to the next cabinet and began flinging out papers and tools and spare parts onto the floor. "This can't be happening. Not again, not after I promised him the lying was over. Ugh, where is that damned box? Of all things to lose, of all the stupid, sodding, rotten, fuc – there!"

He saw the small black box in the corner of the lower cabinet, tucked away innocently under new designs for the Batmobile.

Bruce reached out with a shaky hand. He would never use Kryptonite to hurt Clark – no, it was just to slow him down, to make Clark stop and think before he did something catastrophic, to force Clark to listen and understand that sometimes people make mistakes and that there was absolutely no reason to go to drastic lengths about anything.

Bruce felt the cold lead under his fingertips. He would open the box and slip the rock into his pocket, and when Clark got back, they would talk everything out. They would come to a nice agreement where Clark understood Bruce's confusion and Bruce got to continue sitting comfortably for the weekend because they had reached such a peaceful agreement. And if they couldn't, well, Bruce would have to find a way to keep the rock next to him for the rest of his life.

He grabbed the box and lifted the whole thing up in the air. He held the bottom with his left hand and put his right on top to open the lead box up.

At that moment, tight fingers closed around his wrist and yanked his hand off, leaving the box still closed.

In utter dismay, Bruce watched as Clark reach out with his free hand and grabbed the box. Bruce tried to hold on to it, but he could never match the brute strength of the Kryptonian. With another second more to open the box, Clark would have sunk to his knees in defeat in front of the green rock, but as long as the box was still tightly closed –

"You've done it now," Clark shook his head in disapproval as he slipped the box into his coat pocket. He kept one hand wrapped around Bruce's wrist like a vice. "You have really done it now."


	4. Language

Bruce froze as he looked at Clark in terror. In that awful moment, he understood how the villains he captured must feel when he caught them and they knew the jig was up. But while all they had to suffer was a trip back to Arkham and a padding cell, he had to face the wrath of one Kryptonian boyfriend who was starting to look very, very pissed off.

"That was fast," Selina commented to Clark as Bruce seemed unable to speak.

"Yes, it was," Clark's voice deepened to low rumble. "There was a car stuck on the tracks and a train was coming so I moved the car to a safer place. I would have been back sooner only the family wanted to thank me."

"Let me guess," Selina snipped. "A mom, dad, and two adorable little children who simply worship the great Superman."

"And a dog," Clark added, tightening his grip on Bruce's wrist. "May I ask why you are down here, Miss Kyle?"

"Selina," she insisted. "Bruce made a mad dash for the Kryptonite the moment you left, and I wanted to come. What are you going to do him?"

"None of your concern," Clark replied firmly. He was looking rather irritated with her, but of course, he would never snap at a woman. "Let us walk you to the door. Should we call you a taxi?"

"I want to stay," Selina shook her head. "Only Bruce can tell me to go, and he wants me to stay. Don't you?"

Bruce felt about two seconds away from a panic attack. One of hand, if Selina stayed, Clark might not jump into the disciplining boyfriend routine right away. But on the other hand, keeping Selina around might infuriate Clark even further, and Bruce did not want to upset his boyfriend even more, especially with the Kryptonite now out of reach. He hesitated, trying to decide.

"Let me put it this way," Clark said, still calm and cool. "What's going to happen to you will happen whether Miss Kyle is here or not."

"Get out, Selina," Bruce said immediately.

Clark pulled on his arm, a sharp tug that Bruce made wince. "That is not how we address a lady. Try again."

"If she's a lady, I'm a – ow, Clark!" Bruce winced at another sharp tug and gave in. "I'm sorry, Selina, you have to leave now. I'll see you later."

She tossed her head back. "No, I want to stay. I want to see what you're going to do to Batsy here, what's making him all squirmy and sweaty. It has to be good, and since he embarrassed you by having me here, it's only fair that that you embarrass him by having me here now while you punish him."

Bruce prayed that Clark did not see any logic in that. Suffering under Clark's disciplinary methods was bad enough without having an audience, especially his former girlfriend who would love a chance to see him humiliated.

"You can stay for the first five minutes and then you leave," Clark decided.

"No!" Bruce writhed against Clark's grip. "No, you big blue monster, she can't stay. This is between you and me, not her."

"That's how I wanted it to be," Clark agreed. "But you brought her into this, and as you made clear, she is in our lives now where I like it or not. She means something to you, Bruce, and though I would prefer to keep our relationship private, you brought her into this mess."

"I want her to leave," Bruce demanded. "She'll spread this all over Gotham and make me a laughing stock. She has to go."

"Miss Kyle," Clark turned stern eyes on her, "I trust we have your discretion from hence forth. I would not enjoy having to track you down to reprimand you for spreading rumors, and neither would you."

Selina opened her mouth to tell Clark to go screw himself, but she hesitated. There was something warning and stern in his eyes, a promise of retribution that she had never seen in Batman's eyes. She had forgotten who she was dealing with; Bruce let her get away with all kinds of petty crimes because he had loved her, but Clark had no such feelings about her. And considering that she had put the world's strongest man in a position of possible jealous rage, Selina thought she better count herself lucky. She did not want to waste one of her precious cat lives by irritating Superman.

"Yes, Mr. Kent," she gave the smallest nod of her head.

"We're going up to the family room," Clark directed. "I'm getting through to him tonight if it's the last thing I do, and you'll be a witness as well, Miss Kyle."

"No," Bruce turned to face his boyfriend, "no, please, Clark. Please make her go away. I swear I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want, anything at all. I'll cook, I'll take care of myself, I'll do whatever you want in bed –"

"Don't," Clark's voice was dangerously low, "cheapen what we have. You got yourself into this, and I'm setting you straight. You say anymore and I'll double what you've got coming to you. Miss Kyle,'" he motioned to the lift, indicating ladies first.

Selina's heart was pattering quickly as she stepped into the lift. She could not take her eyes off Bruce's tortured face, and the way he kept tugging to free himself from Clark's iron grip made her stomach flipflop. She had loved the cold, unmovable part of Batman and how he always won, his alpha male role one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. But to see him as Bruce in trouble, struggling against Clark and whatever Clark had planned for him – it made her so horribly horny she could barely breathe.

And as they rode the lift, Bruce kept chewing on his bottom lip in fear and making those tiny sounds of pleading though he spoke no actual words. Selina felt torn between jealousy and arousal: jealous that someone else other than her could cause such a strong reaction in Bruce and aroused that Bruce could actually look like that as he went to his dreaded fate. How could a man so strong and formidable become so infantilized, especially around a boy scout like Clark Kent?

She never thought anyone could ever dominate Bruce Wayne. That had been a core part of their relationship, both of them vying to get on top and stay there, in and out of bed. She would get the upper hand over him and then he would top her and so on for years. They had once fallen out of bed while each trying to dominate the other, and Alfred had come up to make sure everyone was all right, much to everyone's embarrassment. But Bruce had never given up and let her win; she did not think it was possible for him to admit defeat and submit to someone else.

She had been so wrong.

The lift jerked to a stop.

"Clark, please," Bruce whispered, so low Selina could barely hear him. "Please."

"Come along," Clark said quietly, but his hand slipped to Bruce's shoulder, to guide him rather than hold him still.

They all reached the family room and Clark went to close the door, leaving Selina standing beside Bruce. She watched his face closely, catching the tiny flinch he gave when the door shut. Gods, but he looked so beautiful right then, so young and worried and vulnerable – she could barely keep from throwing herself on him again.

"Have a seat and make yourself comfortable," Clark indicated a chair for Selina.

She backed up and dropped into the chair so she wouldn't miss a moment of the sight in front of her.

"Clark, no," Bruce finally found his voice, "not in front of her. I know I hurt you and I'm really sorry, but it's Catwoman for crying out loud. I would never do this to you if I caught you kissing Lois."

"Once we got together, I explained everything to Lois and told her we would have to be friends only," Clark replied. "She was upset, but I have been honest with her just as I've been honest with you. And if I ever do what you just did, you are welcomed to punish me. No more arguing now. I'm going to do what I've done before when you lie to me."

Selina held her breath. She was certain she knew what would happen next, but it seemed all too glorious and awful to actually happen right in front of her. She grabbed the arms of her chair with both sweaty hands to brace herself.

"Five minutes," Clark held up a hand with all his fingers spread out.

Selina wrenched her eyes away from Bruce long enough to see the clock - 6:47.

"Just lecture me for five minutes then," Bruce begged. His mouth kept doing odd things, twisting itself up and down and he shifted his weight back and forth. "Please, Clark, you're good at it, and you know I hate being lectured."

"I'll lecture you all along the way," Clark went to sit in the middle of the old-fashioned, claw-foot sofa. "Come here."

He held his hand out. Bruce felt his stomach dive, but he began dragging his feet towards his unreasonable boyfriend.

"Quickly, or I'm giving her another minute to stay," Clark ordered.

"No, you shouldn't start counting until you really start," Selina insisted.

Bruce shot her look full of hatred, but Clark reached out to snag his hand and yank him towards the sofa.

"You're going to do it," for the first time that night, Selina's voice was shaky. "You're going to spank him, aren't you?"

"I am," Clark began to pull Bruce over his lap.

"Bare. It has to be bare," Selina decided.

Bruce froze, half-bend over Clark's lap. "Shut up," he told her. "Shut up or get out."

"He has to be bare or it's not a real punishment," Selina went on, amazed at her own bravery as she looked right at Clark. "Pull his pants down and his underwear before you put him over your lap. No need for modesty – I've seen it all before, anyway. Bare him so he can really feel it."

Both men stared at her, Bruce horrified and Clark mildly surprised at her sadistic streak.

"Clark!" Bruce finally spoke up. "Make her leave."

"Over my lap and then pants down. But underwear up. Fair compromise?" Clark asked.

"No!" Bruce wailed, but Clark had already pulled him down over those hard knees and tucked him tightly against that rock-hard chest. Bruce struggled, trying to pull himself away by grabbing onto the sofa legs and the carpet, but Clark gave him a rough shake.

"Settle down or I'm going to get the hairbrush upstairs," Clark threatened.

"It's not fair," Bruce complained though he stopped moving. "She comes onto me, she kisses me, and I'm the one getting punished. What about her?"

Selina held her breath again, waiting for Clark's reply.

"She is not my boyfriend who goes off on his own and lies and hides people in closets," Clark retorted as he reached under Bruce to unzip his pants and yank them down to his knees.

Bruce had no idea how Clark managed him so easily. With all his height and muscle, Bruce was well over two-hundred pounds, but Clark held him like he barely weighted anything, keeping him down with one iron-like hand while the other managed his pants. He thought it was completely unfair that the one man on earth whom he could not beat was his boyfriend; anyone else daring to try to spank him, Bruce would had decked and left hanging at the top of Gotham Tower. He tried to shake Clark off again, frustrated beyond belief.

"He always struggles a bit when I get him in this position," Clark explained. "He knows what's coming and knows he can't escape, but he still tries to get out of it. Persistent fellow, I'll give him that."

Selina felt rather light-headed. She could not believe she was staring at Bruce, the feared Batman of Gotham City, lying over the lap of Clark Kent with his pants around his knees and his gray boxers curving around his bottom at the perfect angle for Clark to swat. She could see the muscles straining under Bruce's shirt as he tried to pull himself off his boyfriend's lap.

"How many times have you spanked him?" she whispered.

"Five or six times, mostly for lying. Wait is this seven? It's probably seven. I don't keep count."

"Eight, you fucker!" Bruce yelled at him.

"My apologies for the language. He tends to swear at lot in this position," Clark told Selina. "He's earned himself extra for using that word, especially in front of a lady."

"Do you like putting me on display?" Bruce roared. "I'm not a show, you sick voyeuristic freaks. God, let me up."

"I apologize for the yelling as well," Clark sighed. "He gets really loud this way and he's only going to get louder. Ready, Bruce?"

"Go to hell!"

With a tired sigh, Clark raised his hand and brought it down hard on Bruce's backside. It sounded like a gunshot in the room. Selina jumped in her chair, and Bruce jerked his head straight up, his eyes big and his lips forming around a silent _ow._

Silence for a second, and then Bruce yelled,

"Damn it, Clark, not so hard."

Shaking his head, Clark raised his hand again, ready to keep spanking and start the lecturing for one very naughty boyfriend.


	5. Cry

Bruce set his teeth and tried to prepare himself for the rest of his punishment. He hated that Clark was strong enough to wrest him in this position and keep him there indefinitely, but Bruce could not do too much about it other than try to brave the punishment out. Once he had tried to bite his bottom lip – Clark had warned him not to do that again or he would find a plastic mouth-guard and force it into Bruce's mouth before they started.

And Clark's spankings – they hurt. They hurt so bad. Bruce found himself amazed that any pain could affect him after years of enduring Batman's pain. He had been shot, stabbed, bruised, cut, wounded, and even had his back broken once; surely all that physical agony would harden him against any feeling at all, but the spankings still hurt.

Maybe it was because Bruce could not react, could not move like he could when he stepped back from a well-aimed kick to soften the blow or rushing into a run and letting the adrenaline overcome the pain while he fought villains. He was not in the middle of a fight or swinging into a brawl; he was hanging over his boyfriend's lap (even more humiliating because his feet and arms touched the floor on both sides) and getting soundly spanked by Clark's rocklike hand. He couldn't move his poor ass out of the way or even reach back to shield himself as Clark would just grab his wrists and pull them out of the way.

Or maybe it was because, side by side, they were about the same size. They had squabbled over who was taller and even measured themselves on a wall, and Clark seemed to be about an inch taller, but Bruce was sure he was hovering over the ground while standing against the wall because he always thought Batman was taller than Superman. They could wear each other's clothes for the most part. Bruce's waist was smaller by an inch, but his arms were bigger.

If Clark were bigger and taller, Bruce thought he could have taken the whole disciplining thing a little better. Bruce had spanked all the three boys living with him at one time or another. Three of the worst times, Dick had snuck out to hang with Barbara Gordon, Jason had defied Batman on the job as Robin, and Tim had gotten such bad grades that he was in danger of having to repeat eighth grade. Each of those times, Bruce had grabbed the erring boy by the neck, bent him over a table, and swatted his bottom a few times with the designing ruler that he used for drawing blueprints. He had yanked the boy up straight again, turned him to face his stern mentor, and warned the boy that he had to shape up or his career as Robin was over. Dick had nodded reluctantly, Jason had snarled something mean, and Tim had edged near Bruce, probably wanting a hug which Bruce refused to give. But all of those times, the boys had been smaller and shorter than he was, just kids really, and he always felt like their father, though he was not happy about having such naughty sons.

With Clark, everything was different. He was not Bruce's father; he was his boyfriend. They were equals, or were supposed to be until Clark went on his little power trip and decided that he had to intervene in Bruce's life and set him straight. And yet he loved Clark and slept with him and got butterflies in his stomach when Clark sent him emails sign _Your Superman_.

And Bruce felt certain that he was too old for a spanking. He was nearing his forties, and no man in his late-thirties should be spanked, especially not the most powerful man in Gotham, a playboy millionaire with cars and a mansion and a butler. And no one should ever get to spank Batman, the Dark Knight who scared the most deranged villains and protected the innocent people and –

_Thwack_!

The second swat was just as hard as the first, and Bruce struggled to catch his breath. How could it hurt so much? But no, he was stronger than the pain; he would have to use those breathing techniques to work through the agony.

"All right, Bruce," Clark's voice cut through the air, "I'm going to ask you a few questions and you better answer them correctly or we'll be here all night. Yes?"

"Yeah!" Bruce hissed between his teeth.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack._ "What?" Clark snapped.

"Ahh! Yes, Clark, I understand," Bruce tightened one hand around the sofa leg and reached with the other hand to grab Clark's ankle.

Though Bruce could only see the carpet, he knew Selina was watching the whole thing, her green eyes opened wide to take in the sight. He was so angry that Clark let her stay to watch his humiliation – how could Clark do something so mean and awful to his boyfriend that he said he loved? But Bruce had to admit to himself (ever so reluctantly) that Clark was taking everything very calmly. If Bruce had caught Clark trying to hide Lois in a closet and then lying about it, Bruce would have turned away and left Clark forever. Bruce could never have handled that kind of betrayal, and he would choose being alone rather than having to admit that he cared about Clark so much that it hurt to see him with someone else.

But not Clark – Clark could confront his feelings and actually express them without working up to it for days or having someone (usually Alfred) tell him he must allow himself to feel something, to which Bruce strongly disagreed.

"Good boy," Clark approved. "Hold on there."

He proceeded to lay twenty blistering swats on Bruce's rear, each one loud and sharp. Bruce jerked with the first few, but then he braced himself and did not say a word as Clark spanked him. Each slap hurt, burning its way into Bruce's bottom with fierce intent and he had to resist the urge to kick his legs just to deal with the pain. He swore that he would do two hours of exercise everyday to strengthen his rear because maybe if he just had muscle back there, it would not hurt as much the next time Clark went crazy and decided his boyfriend needed a spanking for whatever crime Clark thought he had committed.

The room was quiet for a moment after the twenty swats, save for Bruce and Selina's loud breathing. Bruce kept trying to deal with the pain, dragging air into his lungs and then forcing it out; Selina sat perfectly still, not even blinking, but her chest heaved up and down as she took heavy breaths. Two minutes had passed – she still had three left.

"Since we have been together, what is the one rule we have?" Clark asked.

"Be – be honest," Bruce stammered. "I'm sorry. I meant to be honest, I really did."

"Why do we want to be honest with each other?" Clark went on, holding Bruce tightly.

"Because it's the right thing to do when – when you're sleeping with someone."

Frowning, Clark raised his hand and spanked Bruce four more times.

"Aagghh," Bruce groaned between clenched teeth, lifting his anguished face up for a second before dropping his head again.

"Try again," Clark instructed.

"It's the right thing to do when you're in a relationship with someone," Bruce amended.

"And what happens when we lie to each other?"

"It hurts the relationship," Bruce worked his mouth again, pressing his lips together and biting his tongue between his teeth though he was carefully not to bite down too hard.

"And what happens when you lie to me?"

"You get mad and beat my ass." Bruce felt Clark move, raising his hand up again. "Wait, wait! I mean, you get upset and I get spanked. That's my answer, not the other thing."

"And why do I spank you?"

Selina leaned forward, desperate to hear every bit of Bruce's answer. She had never been more attracted to him, and the pain in his voice excited her more than Batman's growl had ever done.

"Because you can!" Bruce wailed. "No, no, wait – because you want me to do better. Please, Clark, don't make me say more, not in front of her."

"Fine, I'll tell you why," Clark said. "I spank you because I care about you and I want you to be happy, healthy, and with me. Since you have trouble being the first two, I'm making sure the third happens and we'll work on the happy and healthy part. In fact, I'd sacrifice the happy part altogether if I could just have the healthy part."

"If you had your way, you'd make me stop being Batman," Bruce accused. "You'd make me hang up the suit, close the cave, and bring Tim to come live with you in Metropolis."

"I would do no such thing," Clark replied. "Batman is an integral part of who you are, just as Superman is for me. I don't mind your mission or your alter-ego, but I do mind when you try to lie to me and hide things. I know why you do it and I don't like it."

"I don't do it on purpose," Bruce confessed, wanting to keep talking and put off more spanking for a bit. He was already hurting, but he knew Clark was nowhere near finished yet.

"No, you do it to push me away. You are afraid of getting close to anyone so you push people away when you start to care about them."

"Who told you that? Alfred?"

"No, Dick did."

"That sneak," Bruce pulled his face into a snarl. "I'm cutting his allowance off and cutting of him out of the will. Tim gets everything!"

"Don't blame Dick for any of this," Clark warned. "Goodness knows, he's more together and well-adjusted then you'll ever be."

Clark raised his hand and started spanking again, moving up and down and back and forth all over Bruce's boxer-clad bottom while his boyfriend squirmed and panted and tried to keep quiet. The slaps came down hard and fast, never giving Bruce a chance to recover and pull himself together before another came.

Clark did not look exerted at all, and his face remained calm and serene as he swatted that bottom over his knee. Another dozen spanks, and he paused, looking up at Selina.

"Miss Kyle? It's been five minutes."

To her dismay, the clock on the wall read 6:54. As she had requested, Clark had started counting when the spanking started, but it all seemed to short. Bruce could barely catch his breath after this pause, and she wanted to see if more punishment would induce him to cry.

"No, you can't make me leave," she protested. "Not now. Five more minutes – please!"

"I said five minutes," Clark was firm.

"Five more minutes," she begged. "Just five more minutes. Give me that, and I swear I won't steal anything for a week."

Clark seemed to waver, but still looked unconvinced.

"Two weeks!" she cried. "Two whole weeks without stealing."

"Three weeks," Clark bartered.

"Done," she nodded fervently.

"I expect you to keep your word, and I'll know if you break it," Clark warned.

"Yes, sir," she answered as she relaxed back in her chair.

"No," Bruce found his voice, his breathing back under control, "make her leave right now."

"I'm the one making the decisions tonight," Clark announced. "When you shape up, you can make the decisions. Are you going to lie to me again?"

"No."

"You said that last time."

"Well, I mean it this time," Bruce declared, his legs kicking out in frustration and twisting his pants further down his legs. "I won't lie."

"Or try to hide things?"

"Or try to hide things."

"Or use Kryptonite against me?"

"It's the only weapon I have against you," Bruce protested. "What if you go crazy and I have to save the world from you?"

"I gave a piece of Kryptonite to Dick," Clark replied.

"Stop talking to him behind my back," Bruce yelled. "Dick is my son, not yours."

"And yet you push him away, too," Clark pointed out. "Every time I'm around, you're berating him or turning a cold shoulder to him or sneering at his work as Nightwing."

"He makes mistakes."

"So do you. Maybe this will help you remember that you are human, too."

Clark started spanking him once more, and Selina marveled at just how harsh he was with his writhing boyfriend. Bruce was holding on desperately, but she doubted he could win over Clark's determination. Bruce seemed set to stay quiet, but she thought he was fighting a losing battle. Clark obviously agreed with her.

"Let it out, Bruce," he commanded. "Stop trying to hold it all together and let it go."

"I can't," Bruce said between clenched teeth. "I can't do it."

"You let it out, or we won't finish for a long time to come," Clark threatened. "And I'll spank you every night this weekend and the next. And you know why? Because I'm not going anywhere no matter how much you push me. I'm here to stay, and you can fight me all you like, but I'm not leaving."

Apparently, that did it for Bruce. He screwed his eyes shut as a low sob filled his throat. Selina leaned forward again, scared to breathe.

Clark spanked him again and again, and then Bruce broke down, his face crumbling. Lowering his head, he started crying, choking over his own sobs and letting out all his pain, frustration, and misery. Clark did not stop; he kept spanking, and Bruce cried out softly at each at each blow.

_Thwack_! "Please, Clark, stop."

_Thwack_! "Don't do this me."

_Thwack_! "I'm sorry – really, I'm very sorry."

_Thwack_! _Thwack_! "Clark, I'm sorry I hurt you!"

Clark paused and looked up again. "Selina, time's up."

She wanted to protest, to argue that she was never leaving and that Bruce belonged to her and she wanted to have sex with him right then and there. But she saw the resolve in Clark's eyes, and she shakily got to her feet.

"Riddler's out of Arkham, right?" she whispered.

"What?" Clark looked confused.

"Everyone else is locked up," Selina struggled to breathe calmly. "Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, even Clayface. But Riddler – I can find Riddler."

She rushed towards the door.

"What are you going to do with Riddler?" Clark demanded. Bruce was crying too hard to voice any objections.

"What else?" Selina flung the door open. "Have sex with him until he forgets the answers to his own riddles. Thanks to you and the mess over your lap, I have never been so horny in my whole damned life, all nine of them!"

She ran out of the family room and down the hall, and Clark heard the front door slam behind her.

"Lucky Edward," Clark shook his head. "He's in for a long night."

Without another word, Clark set to finishing up the spanking, glad to have Bruce all to himself.


	6. Yell

"I can't believe you let her stay!" Bruce yelled the moment the front door shut. "You let her see me humiliated and she'll never let me forget it. You are the most evil, most despicable man I've ever met."

"And you," Clark began spanking him again, "are the most inconsiderate, selfish man I ever met."

Bruce felt more tears falling out of his eyes, but he just yelled, "Selfish? You're selfish, jackass."

"I came here for a nice relaxing weekend with my boyfriend," Clark slammed his hand down harder, making Bruce's whole body lurch forward with the impact. "Instead, I find you trying to kiss your ex-lover and hide her in the closet. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" Clark's voice grew angry for the last question and he unleashed such a torrent of swats that Bruce stopped breathing for a second.

A moment later, he dragged air into his starved lungs and gave a loud, long wail of pain. "I'm sorry," he almost screamed. "I'm sorry!"

"Do you still have feelings for her?" Clark demanded.

"Yes! No! I don't know," Bruce was choking on his sobs. "She's meant something to me for so long – I can't stop thinking about her when I see her."

"Do you think about her other times? Throughout the day? At work?" Clark asked, delivering two more hard slaps.

"I used to, but now I think about you," Bruce was starting to shake with the intensity of his emotions.

Clark had lifted his hand to spank Bruce again, but he paused, hand still in the air. "You – you do? You think about me instead of her, in that way?"

"Yes," Bruce cried, "yes. I used to doodle cats during my – my meetings. But now I draw S's in that diamond shape thing that you wear."

Clark wanted to relent, but he said, "You should be paying attention in meetings, not drawing."

"I know, but I miss you during the week and it helps until I can see you," Bruce lowered his head as he kept crying.

Clark felt the inside of his chest grow warm and he remembered why he loved the big lug over his lap so much.

"Ten more and we're done," Clark promised.

"No," Bruce wailed and he kept wailing as Clark laid down ten more slaps from that untiring arm.

After Cark was done, Bruce did not move. He lay still, but hiccupped softly.

"Shh," Clark soothed a hand over his boyfriend's sweaty hair. "We're done now. You can get up now."

Bruce was trembling so hard that he could only push himself up a few inches. Clark reached down and set him up on his feet. Seeing Bruce's pants around his ankles, Clark bend and pulled them up, fastening them up quickly.

Bruce looked stunned, but he reached up to swipe his fingers over his face. He seemed amazed that he had tears on his cheeks and he stared at his damp fingers, surprised that he actually remembered how to cry after so many years of stoicism.

Clark had to stop himself from smiling. Every time he punished Bruce, the hardened man was astonished that he could cry. One more wonderful, precious thing about him.

"How do you feel?" Clark asked.

Bruce glared at him. "Shut up," he ordered. "You know how I feel."

"You'll be sore for a little while, but you'll be fine by Monday," Clark assured him. He opened his arms up to his boyfriend.

Bruce snarled and turned away, his typical response to any sign of affection. But as he walked away, Clark zoomed around him so fast that Bruce did not see, and he ended up walking straight into Clark's chest.

"Oomph!" Bruce hit the rock-hard chest, but before he could move away, Clark had his arms around him, pulling Bruce in for a tight hug.

"There we go," Clark soothed. "You're going to be all right."

"Get off me, you asshole," Bruce yelled into Clark's shoulder.

Clark drew back and gave him a careful look that made Bruce swallow nervously. "Are we going to have to work on your language? Going to have to resort to my pa's old method of dealing with a naughty mouth?"

As Mr. Kent's method had been soaping out a mouth for swearing, Bruce hastily shook his head.

"Then I suggest you hug me and stop pushing me away before I take off my belt," Clark's eyes were like blue ice.

Bruce immediately stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Clark's chest. For a moment, Bruce felt enraged, but when Clark's arms circled around his shoulders and drew him closer, Bruce relented and leaned his head on Clark's hard shoulder.

"You're going to be all right," Clark assured him. "It's all right to feel conflicted. But you have to talk to me. I'll never know what you feel unless you tell me. And if I have to do this until you're eighty, so be it – whatever it takes to get through to you."

"You're not spanking me when I'm eighty," Bruce declared, but he didn't move out of the hug.

"We'll see," Clark smiled. "All right, are we going to have to talk anymore about this?"

Bruce shook his head.

"No more hiding things from me? No more lying?"

"No," Bruce replied.

"You're going to be a good boy now?" Clark said, unable to keep the teasing note out of his voice. He felt Bruce squirm against him, annoyed at being talked to like a child. "You're going to be fine. Okay, you hungry?"

Bruce slowly stepped back from Clark and wiped away the last of his tears. "No, I don't want anything."

Clark resisted the urge to sigh. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Lunch, and I had a lot of food. I'll eat later, just not now. Jeez, Clark, my ass is on fire. How am I ever going to get in the suit and ride in the Batmobile?"

"You're not going on patrol tonight," Clark told him.

"Yes, I am," Bruce drew himself up though it made his bottom ache in protest. "It's barely after seven, and I wanted to patrol until two."

"What time did you patrol to last night?" Clark asked.

"Um, I think about midnight."

"I can call Alfred and ask."

"Fine, three! Are you happy?" Bruce looked away disgruntled, but inside he was praying that Clark did not consider this to be lying as well. His rear end could not stand anymore punishment.

"Hardly. And you were up by six to go to work, I'm sure. The night before – how late?"

"Two," Bruce admitted.

"And the night before that?"

"Four."

"Bruce!"

"Hey, I was chasing Two-Face forever through the Narrows. And once I got him back to Arkham, he realized he had lost his two-headed coin and he went into hysterics so I had to go back and find it and then they had to sedate him because all the over inmates were getting upset and it took a long time."

"And that's why you're going to bed now," Clark announced. He stepped forward to plant a soft kiss on Bruce's sweaty forehead. "I'll patrol, but you are going to get some sleep if it's the last thing you do."

Bruce opened his mouth to tell Clark that he was not going to bed, but Clark moved suddenly, and then next thing Bruce knew, he was cradled in Clark's arms and being carried out of the family room.

"Let me down," Bruce ordered. "I can walk by myself – Clark, this looks ridiculous."

"Actually you look pretty good in my arms," Clark smiled down at him. "I may carry you around all weekend, when I'm not keeping you snug in bed."

Bruce muttered under his breath, but he was careful not to swear out loud.

"Here we go," Clark carried Bruce into the bedroom and set him down on his feet again before beginning to unbutton Bruce's shirt.

Usually, Bruce loved it when Clark undressed him though he would never admit it to Clark. Sometimes Clark took his time, dragging each button out of its buttonhole slowly and pausing in between to kiss Bruce or tousle his hair; sometimes Clark undressed him a super-speed leaving Bruce dizzy from moving so fast. But tonight, Bruce felt irritated. It was bad enough to be spanked like a child, but to be undressed like one -!

"What do you think? Should I give you a bath, too?" Clark asked, tilting his head to side.

Any other time, that would have been the beginning to hours of torrid sex, but right now Bruce jerked away to unbutton his own shirt.

"No, I had a shower this morning."

"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning note, "tell me what's wrong."

"I screwed up, okay?" Bruce shot back. "And you punished me, I get that. But you don't have to treat me like a child just because you're stronger than me. You don't have to carry me around and undress me and bathe me and put me to bed –" To his horror, Bruce felt his eyes fill up with tears again. He blinked, furious with himself, but Clark saw, of course.

"Oh, baby," Clark reached for him and keep one hand on the back of Bruce's neck. "If you had any idea of how much you scare me, you wouldn't be saying that."

Bruce swallowed, afraid to ask what that meant.

"I'm invincible – you're not," Clark told him. "And that will always scare me to death, the thought of losing you."

It was horribly unfair for Clark to point that out because Bruce had no reply. He just nodded again.

Clark stepped into super-speed, turning into a blur, and three seconds later Bruce was wearing blue pajamas. Bruce blinked and ran his tongue over his teeth, suddenly aware his mouth tasted all minty.

"I brushed your teeth," Clark explained as he took Bruce's hand to lead him to bed.

Bruce wanted to protest, but he thought, what was the use at this point? Clark would have things his way, no matter what happened. But once they got to the bed, Bruce balked at getting in.

"It's too early – I can't sleep now."

"You got nine hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours – I think you'll sleep."

"I napped in between meetings yesterday," Bruce objected though he knew there was no use in arguing. "All right, fine, but if I sleep now, can I get up later when you get back?"

"Yeah, we can have dinner then," Clark said, hiding his delight that Bruce was finally asking to do something instead of plowing ahead and doing whatever he wanted regardless of how Clark felt.

Bruce sighed, but he got into bed and collapsed on his stomach. He felt Clark cover him up and place a tender hand on Bruce's hair. Clark was probably going to say something kind and Bruce knew he would have to suffer through it and growl on the inside as he always did when Clark got all mushy and sentimental.

Thankfully at that moment, the phone beside the bed rang.

Bruce rolled onto his side, but Clark had already grabbed the phone.

"Wayne Manor, Clark Kent speaking . . . Oh, hey, Dick, how's it going?"

Bruce pushed himself up on one elbow, scowling. "What does he want?"

"No, we're both here," Clark frowned at Bruce at he continued to talk. "What? . . . Oh, thanks, I thought you might like those books. _Catcher in the Rye_ was one of my favorites, though it's probably too old for Tim. Give him _Treasure Island_. . . . Yeah, he's here. You want to talk to him?"

Clark handed the receiver to Bruce with a warning look. Bruce snatched the receiver and barked into it, "What is it?"

"Hey, Bruce," Dick's came through clear and strong. "Tim and Alfred got here. Alfred went out to see a friend, but he's coming back later and wants to stay in and read, but Tim's itching to go out. I wanted to see if it was cool to take him out on patrol. We'll be careful."

"No," Bruce snapped, "Robin stays in Gotham, nowhere else."

Clark made a movement to step towards the bed, and Bruce gave in. "Fine, fine, go on patrol, but you have to be careful. Take out your car and not the motorcycle. Keep Tim close and don't stay out past two."

"Thanks," Dick replied.

"Did he say yes?" Bruce could hear Tim's voice in background. "Can we go or is he going to be all mean and say no?"

"He said yes," Dick sounded so happy Bruce scowled even more.

"You two better behave or I'm coming there tonight," Bruce threatened. "And tell Tim he better practice jumping some – his form was all screwed up the other night."

"Bruce says he loves you," Dick hollered to Tim on the other side of the line.

"He didn't say that," Tim shouted back.

"Yes, he did," Dick sounded like he was really enjoying himself. "Get over here and tell him you love him, too."

"I won't," Tim retorted.

There was a slightly scuffle on the other side, and then Dick came back on the line, panting, "Hey, Bruce, I got him in a headlock here. Okay, Tim, tell Bruce how much you looooove him."

"No!" Tim seemed to be struggling. "I won't say it. Dick, let me go or I swear I'll beat you to – ah-ha-ha-ha!" Squealing laughter came through so loud Bruce had to hold the phone back from his ear.

"Say it, say it," Dick chanted as Tim continued to scream out laughter.

"Stop tickling me – ha-ha-ha-ha – stop!" Tim ordered. "Okay, okay –Eeeee! I love you, Bruce."

"There, was that so hard?" Dick said snarkily. "Poor little baby - oh, crap, he got away. Tim, get back here and – hey, what's that? Where the heck did you get water-balloons? No, don't throw that. Throw that and I'll –"

"Boys!" Bruce yelled in the phone. "Boys, I'm coming over there and I'm going to crack some heads together and –"

The line went dead, Dick obviously thinking water-balloons were more important to deal with than his irate adopted father.

"That punk," Bruce growled as Clark hung the phone up. "Everything's a big joke to him. I should bring them back here and make them shape up. A week of hard training and limited rations would sober them right up."

"Go to sleep," Clark told him. "We can worry about the boys later."

Bruce lay down on the soft pillow, sure he never could get sleep. His rear was still aching, and he thought it was most unfair that he had such a strict boyfriend with a stern hand.

Clark went to turn off the lights, and the room went dim though it was still slightly light outside.

"I'll stay with you for while," Clark got on the other side of the bed though he stayed on top of the covers. "You go on and get some rest."

"Can't – you spanked me too much," Bruce muttered in the pillow.

A hand suddenly slid under the cover and under Bruce's pajama's top to start massaging and rubbing his back. Bruce let out an exhausted breath of air and sunk father down into the pillow as that hand found each tight muscle in his back and worked on loosening it up.

Bruce knew he was fighting a losing battle and that he was headed to sleep whether he liked it or not so he let his eyes close and relaxed.

"You stay in bed until I get back," Clark told him, continuing to work that tired back under his skilled hand. "I'm checking back every so often to make sure you listen to me."

Bruce grunted in reply, unable to form coherent words.

Clark smiled. He finally had Bruce right where he wanted him.

------

Fifteen miles away, in a tiny dark apartment, Edward Nygma was working on his computer, watching the price of his Ebay items go higher and higher. He hated having to sell his stuff, but it was only the thing he could do to make money until he got the payment for the hacking program he had designed.

He would be in trouble once Batman found out about the program, especially when it hacked Gotham City Bank, and Edward knew he would get an ass-kicking and then be taken straight back to Arkham, but dang it, he needed the money.

A knock sounded on the door. Edward was surprised, but not scared. If Batman had come, he would have broken through the door or come through the window – Batman didn't knock.

Edward opened the door and his jaw dropped open. "Se-Selina?" he swallowed. He knew her pretty well – their cells had been next to each other at Arkham for a few months.

"Hello, Edward," she put one hand up on the doorpost, showing off her curvy figure. "How are you?"

"Oh, no," Edward backed up, putting his hands up, "not fair. You can't take my computer – it's all I have right now. I hate living in this stupid city. Someone's always stealing your stuff. Batman tells us it's so easy to life a clean life. Well, does he have people showing up at his apartment and stealing his computer?"

"No one wants your computer," Selina interrupted sharply. She looked at the dark-haired, rail-thin young man with several days' scraggly growth on his face and rumpled clothes. Not someone she would ever choose to be with and a very far cry from Batman, but when you're desperate, you'll take anything. "I'm here for you."

"Me?" Edward blinked nervously. "You want me for a job?"

"No, I want you," Selina smiled coyly. "Every bit of your glorious . . . thin body. You ready to have sex tonight?"

"Me?" Edward squeaked. "With you? Really?"

He looked so overjoyed and excited Selina wanted to roll her eyes. She settled for nodding and still smiling.

"Hell, yeah," Edward ran back to a bureau in his one-room apartment. "Man, this is the best day of my life. Wait just a sec – I got condoms here somewhere. I got them eight years ago, but they should be fine, right?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Oh, man, oh man," Edward scrambled through his drawer. "I can't believe I get to have sex with Catwoman. Eat your heart out, Batman. And Scarecrow, and Clayface, and Joker, oh, and you too, Two-Face. See what this loser gets and suffer, all of you!"

"Edward," Selina stepped into the room and put her hand on the edge of the door, "I wanted to ask you – have you ever had someone spank you before?"

"Huh?" Edward looked up, the faded packet of condoms in his hand.

Selina smiled wickedly and shut the door, locking it tight.


	7. Agreement

Clark opened his eyes slowly. Morning light spilled through the window, but Clark was alone in the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up to see Bruce stripping off his pajamas near the bathroom door. Bruce had the top off and he eased the bottoms down slowly.

Clark gave a short burst of laughter without meaning to.

Yanking the bottoms up, Bruce whirled to face him. "What?"

"Your rear is still red," Clark chuckled. "Like the red I painted my parents' barn last summer."

Bruce looked like he was about to rush over and choke the life out of Clark, but instead he muttered, "Whatever. I hope you're happy. It still hurts."

"Good, don't lie to me again," Clark flopped back down on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

"You didn't wake me up last night," Bruce accused, moving slowly back towards the bed. "What happened?"

"Not much to patrol," Clark eased his hands under his head, relaxing with ease. "Stopped a few robberies and a mugging. But everything was pretty quiet so I came back here around one. You were sound asleep and I joined you in bed, but you didn't wake up."

"Well, you let me sleep to seven o'clock," Bruce tried to look put out, but failed. ""And I'm hungry now."

"I'll go get us something," Clark sat up.

"No, I'll cook. Let me get a shower first," Bruce moved towards the bathroom.

Clark made a face – Bruce was not a good cook no matter how hard he tried. Half the time he left the kitchen in such a mess that Clark had to rush around at super-speed to clean up before Alfred came back and had a heart-attack at seeing his kitchen in such shambles.

But Bruce, who thought he was the best at everything, would not admit that he had trouble cooking. Usually they ate whatever Bruce cooked in the morning and by evening Clark would insist they go out for supper. And no matter how hard Clark argued, Bruce insisted on paying every time.

"You may be ten times stronger than me," Bruce would say, "but in this town, money is the power."

"I make money," Clark would object.

"Yeah, and they pay you in nickels," Bruce would sneer as he took out his credit card.

What to do with such an arrogant boyfriend? Clark shook his head as he leaned back on the pillow and listened to Bruce start the shower.

Despite his claims otherwise, Bruce was not a morning person. And on Saturday morning with Clark, he was less inclined to hurry so it was nearly nine o'clock before breakfast was ready.

"Here you go," Bruce set a plate of four burnt pancakes in front of Clark.

"Uh, thanks," Clark smiled politely.

Bruce put down another plate of pancakes in front of his own seat and sat down. He winced the moment he sat and then glared at Clark.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Clark smirked.

"I should have put Kryptonite in your food," Bruce muttered as he shifted uneasily and reached for the bottle of syrup. He did not feel too grouchy though –twelve hours of sleep had helped take the edge of his mood and he was rather looking forward to spending all weekend with Clark.

"No Kryptonite in my food, please," Clark laughed.

Bruce poured syrup over his pancakes and then reached over to pour syrup over Clark's.

"I'm designing new Batarangs today – wanna help?" Bruce began eating.

"For a while, but I can't stay in the dark cave all day," Clark hesitantly cut in his stack of pancakes. "I'll go blind down in that place."

"Then put on your glasses," Bruce retorted.

"Fine, cave in the morning, and we go to my fortress this afternoon before supper."

Bruce frowned at the thought of the cold ice fortress, but nodded along. "Deal."

Clark took a bite of the pancakes. It wasn't that bad with syrup, but Clark could not resist teasing,

"I think there're bits of egg shell in this."

"There is not," Bruce gave him the look usually reserved for Tim when the kid would complain. "I know how to crack eggs."

"Then what am I crunching on?"

"The edges! The edges are all crunchy and –"

"Burnt?"

"Shut up," Bruce told him. "You know, for a farm boy, you sure are picky."

"The fine tastes of my boyfriend are rubbing off on me," Clark replied. "I've come to expect five-star dining here."

Bruce tried to look annoyed, but a smile broke across his face without warning.

That smile was the most beautiful thing Clark had ever seen.

"Here," Clark reached into pocket. He drew out the small lead box and put it on the table.

"You giving this back to me?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"I trust you," Clark replied.

Bruce took the box and slowly opened it. The green rock was still inside.

At once, Clark turned pale, looking very sick. He leaned away from the box, holding onto the edge of the table for support. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his face as he started breathe heavily.

"Sorry," Bruce snapped the box shut. But rather than pocket it, he put it back on the table and stared at it.

Clark immediately looked better, but he kept his eyes on Bruce's face. "Bruce?"

"Oh, jeez," Bruce covered his face, "I still can't believe you did that in front of Selina. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys, you sick alien."

Clark laughed. "Are you ever going to cheat on me with her?"

"No," Bruce groaned.

"Mission accomplished then," Clark replied. "Part of Selina's attraction to you is the fact that she sees this big, bad, dominate streak in you and she wants to control that. But I see good in you and I knew that humiliating you would remove part of that attraction for her."

"So my feelings don't matter," Bruce chewed on his food, disgruntled. "How is Batman ever going to face her again? I'm going to spend my nights avoiding her because you know she'll hold this over my head forever."

"Good, keep away from her. You belong to me now. And don't you worry about Selina. I'll care of her. Well, done with breakfast."

"You took two bites," Bruce's eyes narrowed at Clark's plate. "We're not going anywhere until you eat all of it."

"Man, in this how you talk to Tim?" Clark reluctantly picked up his fork.

"No, Tim would have been grounded by now for complaining."

"You run a tight ship, Batman."

"Shut up and eat, Superman."

------

_One week later_

Catwoman leapt to the top of the building, placing her hands on the edge and peering down thirty stories below. A shadow flicked behind and she smiled.

"Superman," she purred, "stalking me now?"

"Catwoman," Superman stepped onto the rooftop, his red cape billowing behind him, "I thought we had deal."

"We did and we do," she rose up on her feet. "I said I wouldn't steal for three weeks. I never said I would stop being Catwoman."

"Can you be Catwoman and not steal things?" Superman raised an eyebrow.

"That remains to be seen," she sauntered towards him, swinging her hips freely and lettings her looped whip bump against her thigh. "I haven't seen him in a while. I miss our run-ins."

Superman said nothing.

"Aren't you going to tell me to stay away? Well, I won't. I'm not the one who embarrassed him, humiliated him, hurt him. That was you, boy scout."

"I'm protective of things I care about," Superman stated.

She looked like she would make a biting comment, but she shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I've seen Batman in humiliating positions before. Living in this town teaches you humility, feeds it to you in choking lumps. And it wasn't the first time I had ever seen Bruce mortified. For all his alpha male stature, he has a deep masochistic streak. Sooner or later, he goes out of his way and does things he knows will only bring him pain and punishment."

"You know him very well."

Another careless shrug. "We loved each other. But I wouldn't give up stealing and he wouldn't give up Batman. Bruce has been with many women and Batman has been attracted to female villains, but me – he loved me as both." She stared off into the night with bitterness. "He loved Selina Kyle and he loved Catwoman."

Superman moved and suddenly he was right beside her. "I want to break your neck," he whispered, his voice tight. "I want to hurt you for what you did, urging him to cheat on me."

"Jealous, huh?" she leaned back towards him, her eyes green and catlike in the night, daring him to try to hurt her. "You're too good. You can never go to the dark places that Batman and I go, those black corners of the soul where nightmares come true and we embrace the evil that resides there. Not you, not the wonderful Superman."

"I know that," he replied. "I can't fight against it either, no matter how hard I try. So I have a proposition for you."

"Oohh, I like the sound of that."

"I can't be here all the time," Superman looked stern. "So I want you to help me with him. You stalk him, I know. I was following him last week here and you were always one step behind him, but not long enough for him to notice. I know you're not going to stop stalking him, so you're going to take note of what he does and report to me."

"Spy on him?" Catwoman's eyes lit up with delight.

"Think of it as your probation. I want to know what he's doing – I can't keep him from going to the dark at times, but I'm not letting him stay there. When he goes to that darkness, when he starts to self-destruct and punish himself, I want to know about it. You don't have to follow him every night, but I need to know what's going on in this city if I can ever step in and save him."

"You're going to save Batman?" Catwoman looked scornful.

"He's going to try to kill himself someday," Superman replied. "No, not deliberately, but it will happen. Over work, too much stress, taking on too much alone, he'll go out one night and not pay attention, and then that will be the end."

Catwoman looked down on the city, refusing to let him see the fear in her eyes. The thought of Batman dying, of Bruce dying – it tore her up inside.

"Fine, I'll watch him. But what do I get in return?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Catwoman," she turned back to face him. "I don't do anything for free."

"Let me put it this way," Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to do this, or I'm going to allow those not-nice feeling I had for you a week ago to take control of me. You're never seen me on red kryptonite – well, he is my red kryptonite, and I can't stop myself where he's involved."

"You wouldn't touch me," she declared.

"You watched me discipline the most powerful man in Gotham. Do you really think I'm afraid to teach you a lesson, young lady?"

Catwoman felt her cheeks flush red. "I'll tell him," she threatened.

"No, you won't. Now, agree to help me and I'll let you go," Superman remained firm.

"Oh, you men," Catwoman leapt to the edge of the building on all four. "It's all power and manipulation and testosterone with you. He's your chunk of Kryptonite, and now you're becoming his. Oh, fine, I'll follow him and report back, but I'm cutting off my three weeks of no stealing by a week. One week from now, Catwoman is back in full swing. And just in time, too, because a new jewelry shop in moved in downtown and I want first picks of the goods."

"I don't condone stealing."

"But you can't stop me," Catwoman smirked. "So go back to your boyfriend and be good and leave the badness to me."

"All right," Superman turned, but then paused. "How was Riddler?"

"Whiny," Catwoman pursed her lips. "He kept begging for me to slow down and not rush him. Such a baby – you'd think he'd never had a dominatrix play with him for three hours straight. And in the morning, he wouldn't stop moaning about how much his ass hurt."

Superman shook his head.

"Don't feel sorry for Edward," Catwoman insisted. "He doesn't deserve me. I'm going back to him tonight, this time with handcuffs and a gag. Can you believe it – he tried to lock the door on me last night, actually put the chain up and turned the deadbolt. I had to enter through the window. He got extra for that bit of naughtiness."

"What is wrong with city?" Superman shook his head. "My parents would be horrified by such behavior."

"Welcome to Gotham," Catwoman smirked. She winked at him and then she leapt off the building.

Concerned, Superman leaned over the edge. He saw her swinging onto a lower ledge and then disappearing around the corner of the building.

The sky had grown overcast, and when Superman looked up, he saw the Bat Signal high in the sky against the clouds. A familiar rumble filled the air, and down below on the dirty streets, the black Batmobile sped along, heading towards the signal.

The End

AN: Hope you all enjoyed this short story. I am considering writing more in this universe with this same pairing and characters, but keeping the stories no more than five or six chapters each so I can write more often. Any thoughts, suggestions, criticisms, or ideas?


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